


Assess the Situation

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers, 2019 [29]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 05:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21230678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which Illya awakens after getting knocked out by a THRUSHie and puts the pieces together.





	Assess the Situation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by today's Inktober prompt ("injured")

For an U.N.C.L.E. agent, regaining consciousness was a bizarre kind of lottery—not just regarding when consciousness would be regained, but also what awaited said agent once awareness returned.

For Illya, the first thing he noticed, even before opening his eyes, was that he was moving, and that he was on someone’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Right away, he knew he was safe; no THRUSHie would carry an U.N.C.L.E. agent on their shoulders.

Secondly, there were two key factors in helping Illya determine exactly whose shoulders he was on; first was the fact that the shoulders were distinctly broad, and then there was the unmistakable scent of Bay Rum.

_Napoleon_.

Illya relaxed immediately. He was in the very best of hands, he knew; Napoleon may be a jetsetting, overly dramatic show-off, but he was still his partner, and Napoleon’s love for him was never something that Illya doubted.

Illya now focused on trying to remember how he had gotten injured. He remembered being ambushed by a THRUSHie while sneaking around one of their satraps as Napoleon attempted to con his way inside as a distraction. He remembered someone lunging at him from around a dark corner—obviously, he’d been hit on the head.

Illya opened his eyes now and looked around, pausing as he saw a group of handcuffed THRUSHies nervously looking back at Napoleon, who had his Special trained on them. Obviously, his partner had not taken kindly to seeing him injured and had intimidated the perpetrators as a result.

And it was impossible not to be at least a little bit satisfied at that.

Illya assessed the level of apprehension on the THRUSHies faces; Napoleon’s righteous anger would be directly proportional to Illya’s injuries in a case like this, and as Illya noted that there were only light levels of apprehension on the THRUSHies faces, it meant that his injuries would be ones he could easily recover from.

Good. He loathed being in Medical.

Illya now cleared his throat, and out of his periphery, he could see Napoleon smile.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes!”

Ordinarily, if Illya’s injuries were mild, as they were now, Napoleon would be far more flirtatious to reassure him. Woefully, they were in the presence of THRUSH prisoners, and Napoleon would be reeling himself in as a result. Even if Illya pretended to be exasperated with Napoleon’s antics (if only to keep his feet firmly on the ground), he loved his partner’s attentions.

“Hmph,” Illya said, his grumpiness stemming from that, in addition to the frustrations of being injured. “What’s the damage?”

He listened as Napoleon told him what he had already assessed for himself, but he was still pleased to have come to the correct conclusion on his own.

“I can probably walk now,” he said, once Napoleon had finished.

“Better safe than sorry,” Napoleon returned. “No need to overexert yourself; the more you rest now, the less time you’ll be stuck in Medical.”

“…Touché.”

That was something he could get behind.


End file.
